Encounterlogs
Tabithas Odd Encounter Sr Legion 240315
In the enchanting setting of Tabitha’s spell-enveloped residence, where the natural and supernatural realms beautifully intertwine, a mysterious encounter unfolds on a beach as the evening creeps in, marked by brisk sea winds and a mystical energy. Conducting a spell with a murky crystal in hand, Tabitha, adorned in simple attire yet equipped with the essence of magical readiness, seeks guidance or perhaps a connection to an unfound entity. As her ritual advances, the arrival of a ghostly figure, structured from the very energy she summons, breaks the monotony of the expected. This figure, a spectral deputy from the past named Samuel Reeves, stands before her, emanating confusion and disbelief over the era he has materialized in, marking the commencement of an odd encounter led by Tabitha's spell.
Reeves, perplexed by the passage of more than a century, reveals his tragic story to Tabitha, who listens with a blend of caution and curiosity. He narrates an agreement made with a dark force, masked as a solution to his wife's illness, which propelled him into a future far beyond his comprehension. His tale unfolds a pact with a sinister figure at a crossroads in 1916, aiming to secure his family’s welfare by surrendering twenty-seven years of his existence, only to find himself in 2024, lost and disoriented. Tabitha, now entwined in the deputy’s surreal plight, ponders the complexity of her inadvertent summoning. Through this encounter, the story dives deep into themes of sacrifice, the unpredictable nature of sorcery, and the intertwining of fate, leaving Tabitha to contemplate her next steps in addressing the deputy's timeless dismay.
(Tabitha's odd encounter(SRLegion):SRLegion)
[Thu Mar 14 2024]
In a pleasant and meditative bedroom
Walls painted in a serene shades of coastal blue create a backdrop that mirrors the sea just beyond the eastern window, while sheer white curtains billow gently, allowing light to infuse the room with a magical glow. White wainscoting and trim adds a touch of timeless cottage elegance, framing the space against the white oak hardwood floors that echo the warmth of sun-kissed sands. Soft rugs, in soothing tones, provide a plush foundation for the room. Here, subtle references to witchcraft emerge seamlessly: sea-inspired crystals on a bedside table, delicate herbs freshening the space, ethereal symbols such as a dreamcatcher hung by the northern window. These help to create a haven where the natural beauty of the beach harmonizes with the enchantments of mystical elements.
It is afternoon, about 43F(6C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
(Your target encounters a ghost who's fixated on some past tragedy from their life, they need to either give the spirit some sense of closure, or send it on it's way through more violent means.
)
Tabitha is in the process of completing a spell, by the looks of it. She is seated in the center of her bedroom with a few tools of the trade about her. She holds a murky crystal in her hand, rubbing it as if to make it clearer, to see whatever it is she can possibly see. There is a moment where her eyes open, the blue murky, milky white like the crystal in her hand, but then it fades. She wears some light work out clothes, and a police issue vet over her sports bra, as if she may have been preparing to find someone ... She cups her crystal hard in her hand. "Where are you..." she asks herself, of someone.
Tabitha picks up her ritual tools, and the rest of her things, making sure she's got herself light, and all other necessities. Out through her living room, and into the foyer she goes, giving a brief look into a mirror at herself before she's stepping out the door into the dim light outside of her home.
The ritual proceeds -- in the settling evening gloom, the wind whips off the ocean across the beach, carrying with it the tang of salt to prick at Tabitha's nose. There is some low, ozone-like crackle of electric energy as the sorceress draws her circle, as she holds her crystal close to scry in it. Energy, gathered, begins to form slowly -- but then there is some stiffer wind. It has with it a kind of howl, cast across the sea, and then then the slow glow forming in the crystal begins to scatter, like a prism scattering a kaleidoscope across the sand. It begins to slowly reform, and as it reforms the light is starting to take the shape of a man.
Tabitha walks across her porch to the nearby beach, stepping down the few steps of the raised floor down into the cold, crisp sand where said prism-shaped man has begun to form, sparkle, and catch her eye.
It's a man, forming out of light -- a Haven Sheriff's Deputy, of all things. Just what Tabitha was looking for... except not. This fellow has a suit on, three-piece, with a pocket watch and a handlebar mustache. He has a bowler hat pulled low, and when he sees Tabitha, he tips it. "Ma'am," he says, the sunset glinting off his HSD badge. He looks around. "Begging your pardon," he says -- there's some shock at her outfit -- "But do you happen to have the year. I know it's a mighty queer question," he says. "But this is sometimes a mighty queer town."
Tabitha blinks, as if not quite believing what she is seeing, or hearing, from this man made out of light, the rainbow glinting in a setting sun along the sea before her. "It's twenty twenty four .... who -- what -- are you?" She is still clutching hard upon the divinity crystal, her palm sweating against it.
"Samuel Reeves, ma'am," the deputy says with a tip of his hat -- instinctive, really, and then surprise in his eyes. "Lord protect," he says. "/Twenty/ twenty-four?" he says. His shock starts to set in. "Anna," he says, his word breathed. "That -thing- said twenty-seven years," he said. "I'd give up twenty-seven years for my family, but... Twenty-twenty four?"
Tabitha tilts her head to the side, perhaps trying to conjecture whether she is dreaming or if this Reeves, with his handlebar mustache and his bowler hat, is some presence that she accidentally summoned, as she is wont to do from time to time, with wrong spells and imperfect incantations. She errs on caution and opts: Both. "Twenty Seven years?" she asks, taking a cautious step toward the dream-quality entity. "What year did you think it was?"
The deputy begins to explain. "My wife, Anna, she was sick with consumption," he says. "And ain't no doctor can cure the white death, ma'am," he says. "But there was a man in town --" He pauses, low, takes in Tabitha's ritual items, the space around her. "A warlock, ma'am, just as you seem to be a witch, and he brought me to a crossroads on the last day of February. He said some words, and he had me spit on a cross, and he introduced me to a... friend." A beat. "A friend with horns and red eyes," he says. "And his friend saved Anna's life, but I had to give him twenty-seven years of mine. Twenty-seven years a long time," he said. "But my woman was twenty-five, my boys knee-high. Twenty-seven years and I'd see them again, wouldn't I? Nineteen-forty-three wasn't so long?" He takes a breath, and it's clear he's struggling with tears.
Math problems, now: 1943 - 27 is 1916; a leap year, just like 2024.
Reeves, perplexed by the passage of more than a century, reveals his tragic story to Tabitha, who listens with a blend of caution and curiosity. He narrates an agreement made with a dark force, masked as a solution to his wife's illness, which propelled him into a future far beyond his comprehension. His tale unfolds a pact with a sinister figure at a crossroads in 1916, aiming to secure his family’s welfare by surrendering twenty-seven years of his existence, only to find himself in 2024, lost and disoriented. Tabitha, now entwined in the deputy’s surreal plight, ponders the complexity of her inadvertent summoning. Through this encounter, the story dives deep into themes of sacrifice, the unpredictable nature of sorcery, and the intertwining of fate, leaving Tabitha to contemplate her next steps in addressing the deputy's timeless dismay.
(Tabitha's odd encounter(SRLegion):SRLegion)
[Thu Mar 14 2024]
In a pleasant and meditative bedroom
Walls painted in a serene shades of coastal blue create a backdrop that mirrors the sea just beyond the eastern window, while sheer white curtains billow gently, allowing light to infuse the room with a magical glow. White wainscoting and trim adds a touch of timeless cottage elegance, framing the space against the white oak hardwood floors that echo the warmth of sun-kissed sands. Soft rugs, in soothing tones, provide a plush foundation for the room. Here, subtle references to witchcraft emerge seamlessly: sea-inspired crystals on a bedside table, delicate herbs freshening the space, ethereal symbols such as a dreamcatcher hung by the northern window. These help to create a haven where the natural beauty of the beach harmonizes with the enchantments of mystical elements.
It is afternoon, about 43F(6C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
(Your target encounters a ghost who's fixated on some past tragedy from their life, they need to either give the spirit some sense of closure, or send it on it's way through more violent means.
)
Tabitha is in the process of completing a spell, by the looks of it. She is seated in the center of her bedroom with a few tools of the trade about her. She holds a murky crystal in her hand, rubbing it as if to make it clearer, to see whatever it is she can possibly see. There is a moment where her eyes open, the blue murky, milky white like the crystal in her hand, but then it fades. She wears some light work out clothes, and a police issue vet over her sports bra, as if she may have been preparing to find someone ... She cups her crystal hard in her hand. "Where are you..." she asks herself, of someone.
Tabitha picks up her ritual tools, and the rest of her things, making sure she's got herself light, and all other necessities. Out through her living room, and into the foyer she goes, giving a brief look into a mirror at herself before she's stepping out the door into the dim light outside of her home.
The ritual proceeds -- in the settling evening gloom, the wind whips off the ocean across the beach, carrying with it the tang of salt to prick at Tabitha's nose. There is some low, ozone-like crackle of electric energy as the sorceress draws her circle, as she holds her crystal close to scry in it. Energy, gathered, begins to form slowly -- but then there is some stiffer wind. It has with it a kind of howl, cast across the sea, and then then the slow glow forming in the crystal begins to scatter, like a prism scattering a kaleidoscope across the sand. It begins to slowly reform, and as it reforms the light is starting to take the shape of a man.
Tabitha walks across her porch to the nearby beach, stepping down the few steps of the raised floor down into the cold, crisp sand where said prism-shaped man has begun to form, sparkle, and catch her eye.
It's a man, forming out of light -- a Haven Sheriff's Deputy, of all things. Just what Tabitha was looking for... except not. This fellow has a suit on, three-piece, with a pocket watch and a handlebar mustache. He has a bowler hat pulled low, and when he sees Tabitha, he tips it. "Ma'am," he says, the sunset glinting off his HSD badge. He looks around. "Begging your pardon," he says -- there's some shock at her outfit -- "But do you happen to have the year. I know it's a mighty queer question," he says. "But this is sometimes a mighty queer town."
Tabitha blinks, as if not quite believing what she is seeing, or hearing, from this man made out of light, the rainbow glinting in a setting sun along the sea before her. "It's twenty twenty four .... who -- what -- are you?" She is still clutching hard upon the divinity crystal, her palm sweating against it.
"Samuel Reeves, ma'am," the deputy says with a tip of his hat -- instinctive, really, and then surprise in his eyes. "Lord protect," he says. "/Twenty/ twenty-four?" he says. His shock starts to set in. "Anna," he says, his word breathed. "That -thing- said twenty-seven years," he said. "I'd give up twenty-seven years for my family, but... Twenty-twenty four?"
Tabitha tilts her head to the side, perhaps trying to conjecture whether she is dreaming or if this Reeves, with his handlebar mustache and his bowler hat, is some presence that she accidentally summoned, as she is wont to do from time to time, with wrong spells and imperfect incantations. She errs on caution and opts: Both. "Twenty Seven years?" she asks, taking a cautious step toward the dream-quality entity. "What year did you think it was?"
The deputy begins to explain. "My wife, Anna, she was sick with consumption," he says. "And ain't no doctor can cure the white death, ma'am," he says. "But there was a man in town --" He pauses, low, takes in Tabitha's ritual items, the space around her. "A warlock, ma'am, just as you seem to be a witch, and he brought me to a crossroads on the last day of February. He said some words, and he had me spit on a cross, and he introduced me to a... friend." A beat. "A friend with horns and red eyes," he says. "And his friend saved Anna's life, but I had to give him twenty-seven years of mine. Twenty-seven years a long time," he said. "But my woman was twenty-five, my boys knee-high. Twenty-seven years and I'd see them again, wouldn't I? Nineteen-forty-three wasn't so long?" He takes a breath, and it's clear he's struggling with tears.
Math problems, now: 1943 - 27 is 1916; a leap year, just like 2024.